


Truth & Consequences

by laEsmeralda



Series: Consequences [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of Neal’s encounter with Bond, Peter summons the nerve to ask why Neal didn’t reveal his sexual preferences sooner; there are, of course, consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth & Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Season 1-3 references; reference to improbable crossover

Even in the dim light from the street filtering through the curtains, Peter could see that Elizabeth was carefully guarding her expression. “Well?” he prompted. 

“Did you ask Neal whether it was okay to tell me he’s bi?” she asked, sounding worried. 

“He would assume I’d talk with you.”

She sighed and shifted nervously on the couch. “I think he would _assume_ that you don’t talk to me about classified information until it’s declassified. He might believe that you’d treat this the same way.”

“Elizabeth, I don’t know what to do. I have to talk with you about this.”

“I _want_ you to talk with me about it. It’s just that Neal might not have realized, just by talking to you in a moment of candor, that he was outing himself to me. You’ll have to tell him that I know.” 

He sighed, exasperated. “I will. That’s the least of my interpersonal gaffes with Neal at the moment. It’s been almost a month since I told him to give me time to adjust. Now I’m avoiding the conversation.”

She nodded. “Yeah, you can’t do that either.” She was quiet for several breaths. “Why are you avoiding it? It’s never been a problem with Diana.”

This was one of the million-dollar questions. His heart thudded a little harder. “Neal’s menu is more complicated than Diana’s.”

A tiny flash of sympathetic smile flashed across her face. “I see. When Diana told you she’s lesbian, you learned you were off her _menu_ , and that simplified your relationship. It was a relief. Your mentorship was suddenly untainted by anyone’s perception—the office, hers, mine, or even yours, that you might choose to work so closely because you were attracted to each other.”

“Have you considered falling back on psychology when you retire from masterminding events?” Peter asked, mildly annoyed and trying to keep it out of his voice.

If his tone had slipped, she ignored it. “As for Neal, now he wants you to ask him why he didn’t have a relationship all this time, not just why he didn’t tell you. That’s what’s interesting to me. Shall I speculate some more about what’s bothering you, or do you want to chime in here?”

“I’m finding words strangely elusive. And unnecessary.”

She made a face at him. “Neal could be about to tell you that he’s been attracted to you all along, and beyond that, attached enough to you that he hasn’t wanted to be with anyone else.”

The flare in Peter’s chest at hearing this spoken aloud surprised him. He felt hot and cold, ashamed and prideful. And scared.

“So much for your poker face,” Elizabeth quipped gently.

“Honey, I don’t mean—“

She shushed him. “You don’t have to worry about me. I have a pretty good handle on who you are. There’s another possible reason you’re afraid to ask him. And I’m not saying it for you.” She folded her arms and waited.

“Neal has been afraid to tell me because he’s picked up on all the stuff on my end and doesn’t want me to… crowd his boundaries.” Now he felt chilled. And possessive. “He also wouldn’t want me to distance him at work because I feel rejected.”

“That might be it,” Elizabeth allowed. She let her head loll against the couch back and studied Peter for a long moment. “I don’t think it’s so for a couple of reasons. One, I think you’ve given away so little that even I had trouble picking it up until recently. Two, Neal would have been a great deal more careful with his own part in your interactions if he had thought he might be drawing _unwanted_ attention.”

Peter leaned toward her, touched her knee. “When he told me, Neal used the term ‘bisexual.’ I’m pretty sure I winced.”

Elizabeth shook her head at him. “We’ve had this conversation before. About me.”

Peter smiled. “It’s still not a label I associate with you. You get a notion once in a blue moon. And you want to act on it even more rarely. Or at least, that’s what you tell me,” he tried to kid.

“I think you’re being inadvertently sexist. We’re all on a continuum, right? Seems like I’m a 90% men, 10% women kind of person. Where do you fall at this point in your life? I presume that you’ve been 100% faithful, so I’m asking about impulses, not actions, of course.” She grinned, confident even as she teased.

He thought about it for a long time. She let him, sipping her drink and stretching her legs out over the coffee table. Finally, he answered. “I’m not sure. My first thought was to say only 5% men. It seems like that captures the feelings over my lifetime.” 

“But you feel you have to qualify it.”

Peter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m pretty good at blocking troublesome sexual urges.”

“You’ve never had much of a wandering eye, thank goodness,” Elizabeth agreed.

“And I have a wall up in the workplace against even noticing attractiveness. But ever since Neal blindsided me, I feel obsessed.” He was pretty sure Elizabeth was hiding a mischievous smile behind her cup. It bothered him. “I wonder if you’re taking this as seriously as the situation merits.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but took on a more serious expression. “Go on. I can’t help it if it makes pretty pictures in my brain. Have you been obsessed, as you put it, with any other man before?”

“In high school. A bit. Not like this.” To his surprise, Elizabeth just nodded. He said, “I hope that doesn’t sound threatening. You know there isn’t anything…”

“Peter. Stop. If I felt threatened, we’d be having a totally different conversation.” She frowned a little. “And I don’t kid myself that this isn’t deeper for you, so don’t kid yourself.”

“I’m not,” he replied, after a moment. “The point is, I have to be able to ask him about this, hear his answer, recover, and have it not affect our work together.”

Elizabeth set her glass down abruptly, making Satch lift his head and ears. “The work. That’s what has you in knots.” 

“Of course.” He tried to read her. “Am I being insensitive to you?” he asked, cautiously.

“You’re being insensitive to yourself. And possibly Neal.”

Her meaning suddenly struck him. “Nothing’s going to happen. Nothing _can_ happen.”

She threw up her hands. “Oh, God, my darling. We only live once.” 

“He’s my CI. I’m his reporting agent.”

“What happened to ‘don’t ask, don’t care’?”

“If he was my secretary or a junior agent, they’d care regardless of genders. More to the point, so would I.”

“Right. But he’s not part of the internal hierarchy. And if he were, and if being together was important to you both, one of you would ask for a change of assignment. You aren’t coercing anyone.”

He wanted her to be right. But he wasn’t finished with his list. “I’m supposed to set an example.”

“Are you’re saying all this because you really can’t see a way around it, or because you don’t want to?”

The answer was easy. “Neither.”

“Then what?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Well—”

“Even to consider having sex with someone with whom I work closely, a _man_ , while married to you, trying to keep it a secret. It’s overwhelming. And really, there’s no point to this exercise. Even if I were ready to break all the rules, Neal’s just been nailed flat, after a long dry spell, by… one of the most charismatic playboys on record. I pity anyone who follows that act.”

“You sell yourself short. I’m dying to ask who it was.”

“I can’t tell you. Per your earlier specifications.”

“Touché.” She grumbled. “I say, just ask him to tell you what he wants to tell you and see what you get. And if you want to be truly sensitive to me, you’ll invite him for drinks here this weekend and ask him about it while I’m walking the dog.” She smothered a smile, not very successfully. “That way, if you’re wrong, I won’t miss the fireworks.”  
*******

Peter felt feverish at the office that week. Since talking with El, he kept himself less walled off, and that proved dangerous. Tuesday, Neal showed up a little stubbly, wearing a new scent, and Peter couldn’t decide if it was a sartorial statement or the result of a tryst that had rushed his morning routine. He found himself wondering, _woman or man_ , and fretting about either answer.

As the week progressed, he noticed how well Neal’s shirts fit, how rolled up sleeves looked good on him. It wasn’t that he had never noticed, but he’d never allowed the thoughts to intrude further than mere distant observation.

Peter had always been aware that Neal watched him closely, and he had attributed it to Neal’s need to always read the situation, spot the exits, understand the spheres of power. Now, it made Peter self-conscious. He tried to dress the same, speak the same, act the same, prevent his eyes from lingering any longer than usual. In doing so, he felt screamingly obvious.

He needed to take Neal aside for a couple minutes where they wouldn’t be overheard, but he kept putting it off. Their crazy schedule helped him procrastinate. Finally, on Wednesday, he broached the subject in an empty elevator on the way to a meeting. It was somehow easier, with them both facing the closed door. “That recent personal revelation we haven’t discussed yet? I told Elizabeth,” he confessed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask you first.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Neal replied, calmly. “She’s your wife. And my friend.”

“But I still should have had your permission. Or waited for you to tell her. Please forgive me.”

Neal shrugged it off. “Already done.”

“We’d like you to come over Friday night—if you’re not busy. Just you. It’s been too long since we hung out. And I can ask you that question I’ve been putting off.”

“I’d love to.” 

“Elizabeth received a case of what she termed, ‘an amazing vintage Grenache,’ as a thank you gift from a client. We’d like to share the first bottle, or two, with you.”

“Can’t wait,” said Neal, casually. But he looked nervous.

Peter couldn’t blame him.  
*******

The evening started off easily enough. Neal arrived at 8:30 p.m., promptly, with a plate of fresh figs and cheese that went so well with the wine that a full ten minutes of conversation evaporated in gustatory observations around the kitchen island.

A full glass into the evening, they were a bit merrier and more at ease. 

“You two will have to excuse me while I walk Satch,” Elizabeth said, slipping off her bar-chair. 

When the door clicked behind her, Neal turned back to Peter with a knowing smile. “Alone time to talk?”

“That obvious?”

“You guys are the dynamic duo of social situations. But I know who’s behind the masks, so… easier to spot. She’s Batman in this instance, by the way.”

“Funny, El calls you and me the dynamic duo.”

“But not of social situations.” Neal grinned.

“Definitely not.” Peter pushed his glass away. “So if you’re still prepared to answer, I’m asking— why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I recall a two-part question.”

“Yes, why didn’t you tell me you’re bi, and why did you swear off men after you met Kate? And I have a subpart—then, why Bond all of a sudden?”

Neal drummed his fingers on the countertop, watching them, not looking at Peter. “Kate didn’t understand me being with men. Maybe part of that was Adler—yes, I was with him—or maybe it was a prejudice, or maybe it was possessiveness. She could accept it about me as long as ‘all that’ was in the past.”

“That must have been difficult,” Peter murmured, sympathetically. 

Neal nodded. “It would have become so, over time.” He sighed. “The hard part was knowing that I’d eventually have to lie to her or else cut off that side of myself forever. The most wonderful aspect of my relationship with Kate was being real with her. There almost weren’t any deep, dark secrets. But I suspected that there would have to be.” He met Peter’s eyes, briefly. “Your marriage isn’t like that.”

“No, it’s not.” Peter let a few breaths pass. 

Neal cocked his head. “And I notice that you didn’t nonverbally editorialize the term ‘bi’ this time.”

“Sorry I did before. I have an uneasy relationship with the label. It isn’t about you. We can talk about that another time.” He tried to soften his tone. “Kate’s been dead well over a year, Neal. You had a fling with Alex, a relationship with Sara, and, well… there’ve been other women. Is that your preference, more often women than men?”

There was a moment of quiet and then a single shake of Neal’s head. His hand began trembling and Peter saw him try to cover it by reaching for the wine bottle to divide the remainder into the three glasses. “That’s not why. How do you feel about me waiting to answer that until Elizabeth is here?”

“Anything that makes you more comfortable,” Peter said, gently touching Neal’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have waited all this time to ask.” He smiled. “You better text her, otherwise, Satch is going to get a tour of the borough.”

That broke the tension a bit as they both laughed. Neal sent the message, and Peter went to change the CD mix to something a bit more relaxed than Vivaldi, which was suddenly stressing him out.

Elizabeth looked bemused, the dog thundering in before her. “What gives?”

Peter tried to be matter of fact in cutting to the chase. “I was asking Neal why it had been so long since he had been with a man until— Wait, that’s not mine to say.”

“It’s probably not for me to say either, but you’re a trusted friend. After I met Kate, I stopped seeing men because she wanted me to. After she died, I didn’t start again until several weeks ago when I… hooked up with someone. James Bond.”

Blinking fast, Elizabeth set the dog’s leash aside. She reached out a hand and Neal put her wineglass into it. “Superspy James Bond? Wow, way to go.”

Peter almost said, _Gee, thanks, honey_ , but he stopped himself.

Neal looked surprised. “You’ve met him?”

“A long time ago, at a State Department dinner.” She glanced at Peter. “I think my husband formed a somewhat negative opinion. To me, the man just seemed remote, intimidating. He was charming, but in a chilly way.”

“Instruments form to the hand that plays them over time,” Neal said. 

To Peter, it sounded oddly like a self-reference and he silently filed it for later. 

“Anyway, I was explaining that Kate didn’t approve of what she called my ‘changeable nature.’ For her, monogamy meant one partner regardless of gender. I honored her request. And that catches you up so far. I appreciate you respecting my privacy, Elizabeth, but I wanted to wait until you were back to go into more detail. I don’t want to create secrets between you two over me.”

“I appreciate that,” Elizabeth said. “And we just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think there’s any way to make me comfortable about this, but thanks for trying.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “After Kate died, I was with women but not men. Which, to answer your question, Peter, does not reflect my preferences. So, when in a highly unusual set of circumstances, an opportunity presented itself with James, I went for it.” 

“I’m not judging you for it,” Peter said. “Not for being bi, not for Bond—despite my initial outburst. I was hurt that you hadn’t confided in me. It wasn’t the way I would have preferred to find out. From _him_ swaggering about it.”

“I didn’t tell you because I have feelings for you that aren’t at all platonic,” Neal blurted out. He locked eyes with Elizabeth for a moment and then looked back down at his own hands. “Strong ones. I wasn’t sure whether we could go on working together if I told you. I didn’t want you to send me away.”

Peter felt Elizabeth’s gaze slide to him, telling him not to leave Neal hanging. He faltered, feeling elated and relieved and frightened. “I had no idea.” 

“I didn’t _want_ you to have any idea. For years, you hunted me. You worked your ass off to put me away. You used to look at me with such anger—sometimes you still do. I like to believe that we’re friends now, that you understand me, care about me.”

“We are, I do, and I would never ‘send you away’ for telling me how you feel about anything, or for being real. There’s only one thing that would make me send you away, and that’s criminal activity. I’m just the boss of your probation, not of your life.” Peter earnestly hoped that Neal understood that.

Neal looked painfully grateful, which caused Peter a worse pang. “But I’m still chained here like the FBI’s trained monkey. Yes, I choose the chain over the cage, I know, but it isn’t freedom.” He paused, and swallowed deeply of wine. “If I’m objective, how pathetic is it that I’m attracted to you, my straight, married handler whose wife I adore? That every time I consider taking up with a man, I feel like I’m cheating on you?” 

Peter could barely hear Neal’s voice over the pounding of his own heart. 

Neal finished simply. “I told you I would answer truthfully if you asked. So there it is. All of it.”

“You adore me?” Elizabeth asked, softly. Peter knew she was focusing on that to buy him some time to compose himself, for which he was intensely thankful. It also had to be good for her to hear it.

“You should know I do,” Neal replied, his voice steadier. Her reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It isn’t exactly safe for people to trust me, you’ve gotten hurt doing it, and you’re still here. Really here.” 

“I have faith in you. Who you truly are,” she replied. “Even when you don’t.”

Peter leaned back in his chair, letting them have the moment. Soon, Neal’s eyes came back to him, gentle, not asking for anything, and he had to speak. “I’m grateful for your candor. I’ll try to be as open in turn.” Elizabeth’s hand came back to rest on his shoulder. “I do care about you, very much. I’ve overstepped a number of clear lines that used to exist for me because of that fact. Yes, you do make me angry, especially when you risk your talent, your life, and your freedom, trying to prove something you don’t have to prove.” He clenched his fists trying to make himself strong enough for the next part. “And I’m not straight. Which makes all this especially difficult. Impossible, really.” 

Neal looked genuinely surprised. Then, his eyes settled on El’s hand, her left hand, poised on Peter’s shoulder. He nodded.

“Whoa, there, I’m not the limiting factor you might think,” Elizabeth said. “We all have Peter’s sense of integrity, his respect for the rules of your workplace, to take into account.” She sighed. “And I’m sure that hearing you describe yourself as the FBI’s chained monkey plays right into his feelings of responsibility.” She moved to the other side of the island and leaned on her elbows, neutralizing the choice of whom to comfort.

Peter didn’t deny anything she had said. He focused on the blue of Neal’s eyes and so was able to notice the slight widening of his pupils as it all sank in and had an effect. The danger of shared vulnerability became very clear.

Neal spoke earnestly. “I speculated that maybe deep down, you harbored some desires that might only manifest on the brink of death...”

Peter wondered if Neal was obliquely referring to the moment they cracked the sub’s hatch, a moment he had replayed himself many times, trying to understand what had and hadn’t passed between them. 

“…or on a desert island after a year of celibacy. It was enough fuel for, ah, daydreams. But it never occurred to me that you didn’t consider yourself straight.”

Peter reached for his neglected wine glass to have something to do with his hands other than what they had in mind. “There’s something else you should know about me,” he said, sounding stern and not meaning to at all. “I don’t find myself feeling this way often. A guy only seems to become attractive to me because we have a close relationship. That makes sex even less likely, for exactly the kinds of reasons we face now.” Peter nursed his wine while considering Neal’s suddenly grave face. Focusing on all the strings attached might be the wrong thing. He shifted the subject. “So, why tell me now?”

“James. He said I shouldn’t waste myself.” Neal shrugged. “Said to make my move, or move on. It made sense.”

Peter snorted, trying to master some sudden, limbic feelings that could result in broken dishes or more. Maybe that’s why what he said next came out so hurtfully. “I still can’t believe you needed someone badly enough to let him manhandle you like that.” 

Neal’s eyes narrowed and his whole demeanor changed. “Those bruises,” he said very quietly, “were from Pendelton.” And then he was looming over Peter, one hand on the bar-chair back and one hand on the counter, his face electric with anger. 

It happened so fast that Peter didn’t have time for a reflex. Elizabeth sucked in an audible breath.

Neal leaned in close, almost nose to nose with Peter. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m not particularly submissive.” His voice sounded smooth and unruffled and menacing. “I can see how someone used to being in charge of me might make that mistake.” 

Peter observed that he had never been so close, straight on, to Neal’s eyes. Which dazzled. He could feel Neal’s breath. They were close enough to kiss, and that thought took over to the exclusion of everything else. He held perfectly still and willed himself not to look at Neal’s mouth. 

Slowly, Neal eased in, blurring their gazes. His lips had almost touched Peter’s when he murmured, “I should go.” He drew away, snagging his jacket from the back of his chair. “Better not get up.” He nodded to Elizabeth and headed for the door. 

“Neal… I’m sorry,” Peter said over his shoulder. He hated that he sounded breathless. 

There was a pause from the doorway. “This wasn’t an easy conversation for any of us. I guess we’ll figure it out. We just need some time.” 

Elizabeth took Neal’s chair as the door shut behind him. She grabbed the half-full second bottle of wine and poured for them both. “If I had to guess, you’re feeling jealous and ashamed but you’re totally turned on.” 

Peter met her eyes. He didn’t say anything.

She shrugged. “Otherwise, you’d have caught him before he made it out the door.”

He let out a pent up breath. “I couldn’t stand up anyway, my legs are jelly. I face gunmen down, but I wasn’t prepared for that, from him. He’s never turned anything like that on me.” 

“Now, you’re closer to even, I suppose, because you’ve blasted him more than once.”

Peter flushed. “I was justified on those occasions.”

“So is he.”

“I’m not saying he wasn’t.” Peter scrubbed a hand over his face. “Besides, that… what he just did… was something more complicated than anger. Shit.” He reached for his phone and dialed. 

Voicemail almost picked up before Neal answered. “Yeah.” He sounded tired.

Peter gnawed at the inside of his cheek. “It’s been driving me crazy, the thought of him even touching you, let alone leaving bruises. You have to understand, I didn’t assume anything about _your_ preferences. He said some things that suggested… dominance.”

Neal let out a huff. “He was testing you.” His voice turned wry. “Maybe overcompensating.” He sighed. “Truce. I’m still standing outside. How’s about you send Elizabeth out here for a minute?”

Oddly enough, even though Neal wasn’t on speaker, Elizabeth was already opening the front door, slipping out. 

“Oh,“ Neal said, and hung up.

Peter sat by himself, suddenly glad not to have to talk.  
*******

Elizabeth and Neal walked down the block together. “How does this work, for you?” Neal asked.

She shook her head. “Hell if I know.”

“How do you not feel jealous?”

“Maybe I do.” She glanced at him. “A little. I don’t want to share him.”

“Then don’t.”

“But I also _want_ to share him, if it’s you.”

He turned toward her in the lamplight, wanting to smooth his hands along her arms and refraining, painfully aware that hundreds of windows overlooked them. “How can that be?”

“It’s complicated.” She shrugged. “I like women. Sometimes. I feel like an offense to lesbians everywhere saying that,” she tried to joke. “Peter has always been understanding on the rare occasion when the spirit moves me. Regardless of what others might believe about it, if you’re like we are, I think there’s something wretched about the idea of never again experiencing the other part of one’s sexuality. In our society, men don’t channel much female sexual energy, and vice versa. If humans were more androgynous… but we aren’t.”

“You can’t overcome emotional distress with intellect,” Neal said kindly, and resumed walking. “Trying to ignore how you feel, trying to be enlightened when your gut isn’t in it—that leaves scars.”

“That’s the odd thing about you. You make me want to do this. I can’t explain it.” 

“What if you’re wrong, once it’s real. Wouldn’t it be easier just not to start? It might be for me. Easier, I mean, than to start and then have to stop in order to spare your feelings.”

“I understand the worry.” Elizabeth didn’t look at him, and her hair shielded her face. “But I normally have a healthy sex drive except when I’m under a lot of stress,” she said, quietly, “and I have to tell you that I’m so on fire right now that I almost can’t walk or talk or think.” She squared her shoulders and looked up at him. “The way you moved on Peter a few minutes ago was so exactly the right thing, that I felt his excitement myself. He needs you, and I need him to be with you. If that’s still what you want.” 

Neal was astonished at her candor. “Even so, he’s as much as said that there’s no way anything can happen between us.”

“Peter needs to be sure that there’s no element of coercion on his part.” She smiled, finally. “I think you might have just taken care of that worry.” 

“I don’t know how you’re possible,” he said, “I will try hard to be worthy.” 

“Stop trying so hard,” Elizabeth replied. “Just be as open, in this, as you have been so far. And when you want to run, and I think you will want to, please, please come to me first.” She squeezed both his hands. “Have a good night, Neal.” With that, she turned and walked back to the house.  
*******

Joan entertained in her glory, resplendent in a gold velvet evening dress she had her dressmaker copy from an Erté painting, _Gown Orientale_. The murder mystery dinner began with guests arriving in Prohibition-era costume as directed by their confidential scripts. Neal smiled at Joan’s choice of the small group of thirteen: enough for interest, few enough for real interaction.

The placecards were all penned in character, but he had surmised most of the guest list. He knew that the Burkes were coming because Peter had grumbled about the costume aspect. Joan and Neal made four, though not as a couple--she had hinted at a beau, who made five. He himself had been chosen to play Luc, secret bodyguard for the mob boss’ fiancée, Charlaine, with a cover as her French tutor. The script dictated that he was even more secretly having an affair with her, a fact that he was not to reveal or confirm. He suspected Moz was cast as the investigator, which should prove great fun. The rest of the group proved to be strangers, including Joan’s distinguished looking mystery man whom Neal suspected immediately to be a retired civil court judge.

As it happened, Peter and Elizabeth were the last to arrive and the chatter went utterly silent for a moment, leaving only the clink of martini and highball glasses. Then, everyone remembered to stay in character and went back to whatever conversation they were supposed to be cultivating.

Peter had turned out in a smart suit, draped greatcoat, unlit Churchill, and a swagger. He even wore spats. He was cast, of course, as Jack, the mob boss. He looked powerful and handsome, and he smiled at Neal in a way that shouldn’t have happened in public, especially since nothing like what it suggested had passed between them… yet. 

But Neal and his now racing heartbeat figured that wasn’t why everyone had quieted. Elizabeth—Charlaine—had distracted them as Joan’s butler for the night removed her coat. Underneath, she wore a long, bias-cut black satin skirt with a red lining that showed off garters draped with pearls, and a tiny flash of flesh above, through the thigh-high slits. Her white shirt with a high collar, cut deeply to her shape and dangerously unbuttoned, parodied a man’s dress shirt. Swinging loops of pearls replaced a tie, but she wore masculine black-lacquered cufflinks and no other jewelry. Underneath her black cloche hat, her hair had been elaborately dressed and pinned up, leaving her neck bare. Her minimal cosmetics were wine lipstick, black eyeliner, and moxie. 

Peter’s smile had sparked Neal’s libido, but the sudden hardness altering the line of his fine trousers derived from something unexpected. He was grateful for his long suit jacket.

Peter leaned down and whispered in Elizabeth’s ear. She flashed a smile that managed to exceed the inappropriateness of Peter’s and after patting Peter on the arm, slinked over and wrapped an arm through Neal’s, drawing him tight against her side. He felt a breast press into his upper arm, something that often happened, but which he had never given more than a passing notice with her before. Peter winked at her, or Neal, and went to speak with Joan—Roxy. 

“There you are,” Elizabeth said under her breath, voice uncharacteristically deep. “Don’t mind him, he’ll _never_ guess.” 

Neal’s mouth felt sticky. He realized he was supposed to act a part, follow her lead, but he didn’t know what to say in order to not say everything that wanted to tumble out of him. All of a sudden, he saw the way out. Perfect truth. He sipped his drink and affected a light Parisian accent. “I’m not worried, Madame Charlaine, but I do find myself without words.” He kept his eyes on Peter and leaned sideways to speak confidentially. “I simply was not prepared for Aphrodite to walk through the door tonight and into my arms.”

“That’s my smooth one,” she replied with a husky laugh. He led her over to group, trying desperately to stay on task.  
*******

In the near-dark, she hovered over him still dressed, hat neatly in place, with skirt hiked up around her hips, and maneuvered him inside. Peter leaned on the bedpost at the headboard, watching, in shirtsleeves, tie askew. Neal groaned as her weight drove him in deep. His hands skimmed her thighs, small of her back, and then cupped her considerable breasts through the shirt. He had never absorbed how endowed Elizabeth was, hadn’t speculated at the satisfaction of having that softness under his touch. She panted, rocking harder against him, and murmured, “Neal,” and all of a sudden he came, a train-wreck of an orgasm as he thought, “ _No!_ ” 

He awoke, pulse thundering, sheet and belly wet. He was naked in his bed, alone, and he sucked in a relieved breath. He glanced at the clock—2 a.m. He’d only been asleep an hour, a bit gin-soaked, and more than a little fevered. His instincts were that, for her, the flirtation had been in the spirit of the evening. But Peter felt up to something. A test? An invitation? A show of vulnerability? Or power. He reached for his cell phone and sent Peter an (always) encrypted text that he would see upon awakening. Then he got up and stripped the top sheet away, wiping himself off, and went in search of pajama bottoms. 

Shockingly, his phone rang. He answered it on the second ring. “Peter.”

“What’s up?” Peter sounded wide awake.

“Why the hell are you up?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Peter chuckled. “You sure you want me to answer?”

“Well, I’m not entertaining,” Neal replied, indignantly.

“Neither am I—any longer,” Peter replied with mischief. “She’s asleep upstairs. I had to raid the fridge.”

Neal wanted to ask if they had just finished, wondering how much his dream had coincided, but he refrained. “What was that about… tonight?”

“You looked amazing,” he said, simply. “I couldn’t help myself.” 

“Oh. No. Well, yes, that smile. Luckily, no one but me was looking at you just then.” It occurred to Neal, dimly, that he didn’t know that to be true, and there might be consequences yet. Something to consider later. He went on. “But that’s not what shocked me.” He struggled for a moment and then plunged. “I mean Elizabeth.” 

There was a moment of silence. “Yeah,” Peter began. “Mostly my fault, but then… I told her not to worry about me, to go ahead and play the part, whatever she was assigned. She’s not one to do something halfway. That outfit…”

“Whatever the reason tonight, I haven’t reacted to her that way before.” He made himself say it all. “I just had dream-sex with her.”

“Oh.”

He couldn’t read Peter’s tone in that single word. “You were here, watching us. Enjoying it.” 

“I bet I was.” Peter didn’t sound upset in the slightest.

Despite the rank awkwardness of the moment, and his recent release, Neal felt himself stir. “I don’t want any more weirdness between us than there already is. Crazy as it sounds, that’s why I’m telling you this.” 

“Neal. God. Before she walked over to you. I whispered some fairly provocative things in her ear.” 

“I’d be interesting in understanding what exactly that means.”

“Well, I started by saying that the way you look drives me crazy. Every day.”

Neal closed his eyes and absorbed the words like a beautiful wine going down.

“It’s true, but I also knew it would turn her on. Then, I said she should pretend—like I have to, that she gets to be with you on a regular basis and has to hide it from everyone.” 

Lust bolted through Neal’s tired body. “She cheated. Told you about her script.”

“She didn’t want me to think it was… something else.”

I don’t think you were just helping her act.”

“I had ulterior motives.”

“Are you testing me?”

“What?” Peter protested. Then he muttered to himself what sounded vaguely like a swear. “Well, I can see why you’d think so, in retrospect. No. I did it for my wife. I’m letting her in on my feelings, like she asked.”

“I think there’s a better way for this to play out than through an innocent bystander.”

Peter snorted softly. “Not so innocent. But your point is taken.” 

“I handled my feelings differently when I didn’t know it was even possible to be with you. Now, I just can’t seem to manage.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Soon, Peter. It needs to be soon.” 

“I’ll talk with Elizabeth in the morning. You busy tomorrow night?”

“I’d like to be. But on neutral territory.”

“We have an early dinner with neighbors, but we could meet you somewhere at 8.”

Neal thought for a minute and named the bar at The Library Hotel, which Peter accepted. “See you then.” Neal rang off and got up to get his pencils. There was no chance he was going back to sleep anytime soon.  
*******

Elizabeth had taken care to dress down. Peter had shared just a fragment or two of his conversation with Neal, but it was enough to shame her--clearly not Peter’s intention, or Neal’s, but a result nevertheless. She had gotten caught up in the joy of the freer flow between the two men. But it was a delicate situation that hadn’t needed more confusion. Consequently, she felt nervous rather than excited.

Peter had chosen a pressed dark blue dress shirt, no tie, and khakis, even though she had picked out something nicer for him. In that decision, she read his mood as trying to be deliberately disinvested in any outcome, so she did the planning for him, stocking his dopp kit with condoms when he wasn’t looking and stowing it in one of her more voluminous purses. 

She insisted that they drive and valet the car, which kept options more psychologically open. For example, she could just head home without anyone worrying about her, or she could take a cab and leave Peter the car. She was a planner; this was her way. 

The lobby retained a historic library smell, and the bar had a homey feel. It was comforting—the venue and the careful choice behind it—as were the heavy glasses of single-malt waiting in front of the two fresh place settings. Neal looked, as usual, poised and otherworldly handsome. She stopped her lips from quirking at the fact that he, too, had dressed casually. 

It also didn’t escape her notice, as she took her seat, that his eyes involuntarily flicked to her chest before settling, steadfastly, on her face—something she’d never seen happen to him before. It felt good, at the same time that it made her cheeks warm with renewed confusion. His slight smile seemed almost apologetic. She returned it. Peter took the seat between them, as she had intended. It occurred to her that the little bag she had packed for Peter was entirely superfluous. She might be a planner, but Neal was a master planner. It made her feel much better.

Neal raised his glass. “A toast to transitions,” he said, cheerfully. “Feared and yet highly anticipated.”

They clinked glasses and drank. Peter opened the discussion. “El and I spoke this morning. I gave a synopsis, and we came to some resolutions.”

Meeting Neal’s eyes, Elizabeth reached across the table for his hand. “When you and I talked, we didn’t speak of practicalities, and that’s just as well. Sex needs spontaneity as well as openness. I’ve decided that I’ll head home.” She glanced at Peter’s profile, and despite his easy demeanor, she could sense the thrumming of anxiety and arousal, as well as some surprise at her decision. “But I wanted to be here to look you in the eye and say that I will love knowing that you’re together tonight.” She drew her hand away and raised her glass again before knocking back the rest of the marvelous scotch with the thought, “ _Cab_.”

Neal glanced between Peter and her. “I have a slightly different opinion, and a request, if I may.” He lowered his voice even further. “I realize that you’ll both hear this in a different way than you would have before my call to Peter last night, but please believe me. I need you there, this first time, unless it would be too distressing for you. And if it would, I think we shouldn’t start this at all.” 

She sensed that there was nothing libidinous behind the request. “Tell me why.”

“This is uncharted territory. Peter explaining it in words later won’t accomplish what we need it to.” He turned to Peter. “Does it make you uncomfortable, Elizabeth being in the room?”

Peter shook his head, a warm and perhaps shy smile saying plenty. 

“What about you?” Neal asked her.

It scared her. Seeing would be different, less safe, than imagining. Being in the room meant being seen as well as seeing, whether she became tearful or shocked or aroused. There would be no dissembling, nowhere to hide. Which is exactly what Neal needed, to know that he wasn’t doing anything she didn’t want. She reached over and took Peter’s neglected glass and sipped. “It makes me very uncomfortable. But I’ll do it.”

Neal waited long enough to know that she wasn’t taking it back. “We should agree on a safe word,” he said.

“Whoa, there,” Peter whispered, “that sounds—“

“For Elizabeth,” Neal interjected. He looked at her. “I want you to know that you can stop us, no questions asked, no resentment.”

She regarded him steadily. It was a good idea. “Jade,” she said, without hesitation, surprising both men.  
*******

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Neal had reserved a room and checked in before they met for a drink. It saved them a flurry of arrangements and tussles over who would pay for what. “I made no assumptions, just kept our options open,” Neal said, by way of explanation in the elevator. 

The room had a king bed facing a small couch where Elizabeth uneasily settled. She felt as though she needed a pair of sunglasses, like the women in Andrew Blake movies, and at that thought, fished in her bag for exactly that. As she slipped them on, she caught a peripheral smile from Neal, although he was trying not to look at her. Thankfully, Peter was following that lead. Humor aside, she immediately felt more comfortable with the glasses on. They were men—they didn’t turn the lights down. 

There was some awkward hovering, and then Neal took the initiative. He crowded into Peter’s personal space, assertively offering his mouth. His hands touched the small of Peter’s back and the opposite shoulder. Peter yielded, sliding into the embrace, the kiss rough and intense. At first, his hands floated, but within a few seconds, he was cradling Neal’s head. Neal stepped tighter, bringing their bodies together, nothing like the brotherly hugs of the past. 

Elizabeth wasn’t sure who groaned first and who responded, it was such a melded sound of all the things held at bay too long. She caught her breath. This was real, she didn’t feel any fear, and her underwear had just flooded. Some logic-driven brain cells felt vindicated that she had chosen a loose, dark skirt and not the pale trousers she had considered. 

Clothing began to shed, hands everywhere, and she suddenly understood that this would likely be over quickly. She hoped that there would be a next time.

Neal nudged Peter back against the bed until Peter put an arm back and guided himself onto it as Neal stripped away trousers and underclothes. Neal’s eyes fixed on Peter’s darkening, eager flesh and he made an impatient noise that El was sure she would hear echoing for a long time throughout her fantasies. Peter’s face stayed intent on Neal’s, absorbing an aspect of the man to which he’d never before been privy. 

Elizabeth finally allowed her eyes to slide down to Neal’s similarly impressive nakedness, and she missed the magic trick. One moment Neal was standing by the bedside, and the next, he was kneeling over her husband, taking Peter’s cock down his throat. 

She would later describe the scene to herself as beautiful chaos. Peter managed, while losing some measure of gross motor control, to maneuver himself so that he could reciprocate. He didn’t hesitate, his lips sliding over Neal as though he did this all the time. Their sounds made her heart beat so hard it frightened her in a distant way, adrenaline shooshing through her bloodstream. 

“Stop,” Neal commanded abruptly, with a hard nudge to Peter’s shoulder, surprising Peter into doing exactly that. A few seconds later, the familiar sounds of Peter’s climax crashed over her, heightened with an edge of desperation, his hands clutching at Neal. She tried to get her own breathing slowed as he quieted. Neal stroked a hand along Peter’s side. 

“I wanted to bring you with me,” Peter said, his voice hoarse. 

“I know,” Neal replied. He propped on an arm. “I wanted to wait. All those times I imagined being with you—I had to experience it clearly.” He smiled wistfully. 

“Such a good idea.” Peter reached up and pulled Neal down into a kiss. Elizabeth watched the muscles in Neal’s back shift fluidly as his leaned down. He was much slighter than Peter, his bones and muscles well-formed, exercised, but his school of hard knocks had been different than Peter’s. Yet, they had both survived to be here. She could see the tension in Neal, not his body language of concealed apprehension, but the care of holding back. It was that which attracted her more than his looks, the constant struggle beneath his skin and how he handled it. 

Neal softly moaned and Elizabeth shivered in response. Peter shifted their weight and eased Neal to his back. He kissed along Neal’s neck, slowly, until Neal’s feet moved restlessly and his back arched. He moved downward along Neal’s body, taking his time, murmuring his appreciation of each little spot. Elizabeth felt sympathy with Neal--Peter’s patience, while delicious, could also be maddening. Neal’s hands grabbed at the sheets. Only then did Peter slide a hand up Neal’s thigh and grasp him. Neal choked on a sound and pushed up into Peter’s hand. Elizabeth had a flash of joining with _that_ , driving him into her. She batted the thought away and shifted her gaze to Peter’s face. 

He was intent on his task, passing Neal’s navel, nose drifting through what looked like remarkably soft hair. Neal gasped, chin straining at the ceiling. “Don’t swallow,” he hissed. 

“Do we have anything to worry about?” Peter asked, unrelenting in his pursuit. 

Peter couldn’t see the single shake of Neal’s head, but Elizabeth could. “We haven’t all agreed,” Neal protested.

“So, we agree now.” Peter glanced at Elizabeth. “Condoms for anything else, not for this.”

“Yes,” she said, taking off her glasses.

“Oh, God,” Neal said. “Yes.”

Peter skipped the last span of belly and plunged Neal into his mouth, groaning into the satisfaction of it himself. Neal was so ready that despite the resistance evident throughout his body, he let go within moments. 

Elizabeth slipped off the couch and into the bathroom. She was not a skin-flick-plot-voyeur to masturbate while watching, but neither could she wait any longer. She flipped the door lock quietly and leaned back against the wall. Her ‘personal assistant’ had been forgotten in the purse on the couch. It so didn’t matter. 

When she could move again, she washed her hands and glanced in the mirror. She wasn’t in the slightest disheveled on the outside, which felt impossible. She sucked in a long, raggedy breath, and let out a smoother exhale. Ready. 

In the other room, two sets of worried eyes greeted her from where the boys were sitting on the bed. She froze. Unanticipated. 

“Honey?” Peter ventured, anxiously. 

She flushed hot. 

“Oh,” he said, relief evident. “Thank goodness.” He fell back on the bed. 

It took Neal a few beats to catch up. A slow smile followed, making his eyes gleam. He didn’t say anything at first and discreetly finished pulling on his underwear. Then he came over to where Elizabeth stood trying to gather her wits. 

He smelled so good, like Peter and himself and sex, she had to shut her eyes for a second. He cradled her face in both hands and gently tilted it up. He touched his forehead to hers. “Thank you,” he whispered. She reached out and pulled him in by the waist and he wrapped his arms around her. She melted into the safety of him holding her. It probably wasn’t so smart to linger with the oxytocin hard at work on her rational brain cells. But she stayed.

“I feel a badly about that, El,” Peter said from the bed. “Didn’t mean to… hell, I don’t even know how to say what I’m thinking.”

“We didn’t think I’d be here,” she said into Neal’s chest, face still hot. 

“Hey, I’m feeling kinda vulnerable here,” Neal murmured, “if _you’re_ embarrassed, where does that leave me?”

She hadn’t considered it. “No, that—you two—was incredible,” she blurted. 

“I’d have liked you to stay,” Peter said, frankly. “Have you ever known me to ignore your satisfaction?”

“But I’m here,” Neal said. “She wouldn’t want me to see it.” He said it without judgment.

She considered leaving it there. The whole truth could stay between her and Peter. But she didn’t feel like withholding it from him. “True, but it isn’t that simple,” she sighed. Pushing back from Neal enough to separate their bodies, she met his eyes. 

“Ah, it’s what I told Peter last night.” His eyes veiled a bit, self-protecting.

She corrected him. “It’s what _happened_ last night at the party.” Abruptly, she drew his head down—he didn’t resist—and kissed him. As thorough a kissing as she made it, they were too spent for it to be anything other than yearning and heartfelt. Afterward, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peter agape, but it wasn’t in a bad way. “Tell me, dear friend who has been starving for two years to be with the man on the bed, that it isn’t an unnecessary complication.”

His eyes were intense. “Neither unnecessary, nor unwelcome. For me.” 

Suddenly, Peter was standing next to them. “Or me.”

She nodded. “So, I’m the one who needs to catch up.” She waved them both off. “You two should focus. Feel what you feel, go crazy with sex, work through it, have your first lovers’ fight, make up.”

Peter chuckled. “Um, I think we got that last item out of the way, we just didn’t know it at the time.”

“But not the rest.” He turned to Peter. “She’s right about that. Things are liable to be a bit obsessive in the beginning, which will already affect her by disrupting your patterns as a couple.” His expression grew serious. “After month or two of intense experiment, you might have had enough.” He paused. “No offense intended. I’m just trying to see it from her perspective.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “I understand sex for sex’s sake, but this won’t be that for Peter. Or me. And we already know it isn’t that for you, Neal.” She thought his previous unburdening in their kitchen needed further acknowledgment. “When the chemistry settles down, we’ll still be here. Okay, enough talk. Time I went home.” She smiled with as much mischief as she could muster as she dug in her purse and pulled out Peter’s dopp kit, unzipped it, and left it on the end of the bed, a small fan of condoms peeking out. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re just getting started here.”  
*******

Deep into the night, Neal lazed against Peter’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, Peter’s hand heavy on his shoulder. Doing this only played into the roles Peter boxed himself into as Neal’s mentor and protector, thinking Neal needed that strength from someone older and wiser. He sighed. The rationality of the thought couldn’t overcome the simple pleasure of the act of letting Peter hold him. There would be time, as there had been in their working life, for Peter to experience the unexpected. 

“You awake?” Peter asked.

Neal grinned. “I must be doing something wrong if you are.”

Peter laughed. “I keep waking up, afraid this won’t be real.”

He brushed his lips over the smooth skin of Peter’s chest. “I hate to admit it, but Elizabeth was right. I need you all to myself right now. When we’re together, I mean. She should have you all to herself when you’re together.”

Peter’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “I hope I’m enough to go around,” he said in a worried tone. 

Neal made a light scoffing noise. “Believe it or not, I have a modest drive. It’s useful to cultivate an image of sexual mystery, but there are so many interesting things to do in life.” He elbowed himself up to see Peter’s face in the near-dark. “That said, I plan to take full advantage of the dopamine rush while we have it. After that, I won’t be able to handle sex at the same pace. Hopefully, that doesn’t disappoint.” 

“It surprises me.” Peter groaned a little and stretched. “But I can’t imagine being disappointed. Relieved, maybe.” He laughed and Neal joined in. “Seriously. I think I broke something, and you haven’t even fucked me yet.”

The idea struck a deep chord despite his exhaustion. “Mmm… when you put it that way….”

Peter shifted onto his side to face Neal. “I know you thought I was making certain assumptions, because of our work together. I’ll admit I’ve imagined once or twice oh, say, taking you against a wall in a fit of desperation, but mostly, it’s the idea of having you take the lead that gets me.”

Neal considered beyond the fun to the responsibility that might entail. “How experienced are you?”

Peter was quiet a long moment. “I’ve never done _that_.”

“Why not?”

Peter shrugged. “The few men… we were intense about the connection, and getting off was hot. With the first guy, we were too young, and it seemed like way more than we wanted to try. When I was older, I was unsure what going there would mean. It just didn’t ever seem like the right moment, you know?”

Neal nodded. “Like tonight. All this time, I’ve been so hungry for your _skin_.”

“Your mouth,” Peter echoed, leaning over to taste again. 

When they broke, Neal said, “It doesn’t ever have to be more than this.”

“Oh, yes it does,” Peter said, warmly. “You’ll see.”  
*******


End file.
